"What! you alive?" said Little, staring.

"Alive, and that is all," said Coventry. "Pray excuse me for not dying
to please you."

Ere Little could reply, Mr. Carden, who had heard of his arrival, looked
in from the library, and beckoned him in.

When they were alone, he began by giving the young man his hand, and
then thanked him warmly for his daughter. "You have shown yourself a
hero in courage. Now go one step further; be a hero in fortitude and
self-denial; that unhappy man in the next room is her husband; like you,
he risked his life to save her. He tells me he heard the dam was going
to burst, and came instantly with a ladder to rescue her. He was less
fortunate than you, and failed to rescue her; less fortunate than you
again, he has received a mortal injury in that attempt. It was I who
found him; I went down distracted with anxiety, to look for my daughter;
I found this poor creature jammed tight between the tree he was upon
and a quantity of heavy timber that had accumulated and rested against
a bank. We released him with great difficulty. It was a long time before
he could speak; and then, his first inquiry was after HER. Show some
pity for an erring man, Mr. Little; some consideration for my daughter's
reputation. Let him die in peace: his spine is broken; he can't live
many days."

Little heard all this and looked down on the ground for some time in
silence. At last he said firmly, "Mr. Carden, I would not be inhuman to
a dying man; but you were always his friend, and never mine. Let me see
HER, and I'll tell her what you say, and take her advice."

"You shall see her, of course; but not just now. She is in bed, attended
by a Sister of Charity, whom she telegraphed for."

"Can I see that lady?"

"Certainly."

Sister Gratiosa was sent for, and, in reply to Little's anxious
inquiries, told him that Sister Amata had been very much shaken by the
terrible events of the night, and absolute repose was necessary to her.
In further conversation she told him she was aware of Sister Amata's
unhappy story, and had approved her retirement from Hillsborough,
under all the circumstances; but that now, after much prayer to God for
enlightenment, she could not but think it was the Sister's duty, as a
Christian woman, to stay at home and nurse the afflicted man whose name
she bore, and above all devote herself to his spiritual welfare.

"Oh, that is your notion, is it?" said Henry. "Then you are no friend of